


Instinctual Weakness

by Gem_Gem



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John, Childish John, Childish Sherlock, Embarrassed Sherlock, F/M, Gen, Hot Weather, M/M, Naked Sherlock, Non-Consensual Tickling, Tickling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 15:22:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4024927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John had come to expect the unexpected when living with a man as brilliant and ridiculous as Sherlock Holmes, had thought he’d become accustomed to Sherlock’s quirks, tantrums, various –and smelly- experiments, and eccentricities but, as usual in Sherlock’s presence, John found that he was very, very wrong. Very wrong indeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Instinctual Weakness

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm sat here, watching and waiting for my 3D animation to bloody render and what pops into my head, but this!
> 
> It's slightly rough, mainly because I'm half asleep right now (it's 4:00am), so if there are any spelling mistakes and the lark, I'm sorry in advance, I should fix them as soon as I can think clearly!
> 
> I've read a few tickle fics in my time and liked them a lot, so...here is mine...
> 
> If you liked it and want more, let me know and leave a comment.
> 
> I was going to do this whole "You decide" thing where I ask you, the readers, what's the most rated thing you guys want to happen but not sure how to go about it right now... Watch this space!
> 
> Also, just a heads up, the annoying OC character can and probably will disappear, I made her up on the spot, I feel nothing for her.

John had come to expect the unexpected when living with a man as brilliant and ridiculous as Sherlock Holmes, had thought he’d become accustomed to Sherlock’s quirks, tantrums, various –and smelly- experiments, and eccentricities but, as usual in Sherlock’s presence, John found that he was very, very wrong. Very wrong indeed.

John had been dating his current girlfriend for around five months and two days, to be exact. Her name was Beth and she was a wonderful woman with a head of thick, dark waves, the greenest eyes John had ever seen, and the body of a goddess—John was sure that luck must have been on his side the day he had met her, or rather bumped her, spilling half a cup of coffee down her front. Perhaps it hadn’t been luck then?

Everything had been going well; swimmingly in fact, until, that is he had brought her over to the flat one hot summer afternoon. It was one of the hottest days of the summer, according to the weather forecast, and John, for once, was one to wholeheartedly agree. Beth had met John for a small lunch at a pleasant little café for cakes and tea, but by the end of it they were both so affected by the heat that they had ignored their tea completely and the cakes had all but melted into the plates. John had then taken Beth walking in the hopes of a cool breeze or even the distant jingles of an ice-cream van, but when neither seemed to be happening, John had offered her a cold beverage at the flat seeing as they were quite close to it already, and with her agreement had escorted her.

She had been at the flat before, of course. John had made sure to warn her about Sherlock, and had then introduced them a day or two later. Sherlock had been the politest he had ever been at the time of the meeting, but John had a sneaking suspicion that it was more down to his attention being solely on the severed hand on the kitchen table, than on him actually taking a liking to Beth. Beth had met Sherlock a handful of times, and each time John had held his breath and braced for the ultimate argument, from both, but nothing had come. It hadn’t happened for so long that John had stupidly let confidence and happiness seep into his mind, into his bones.

Upon entering the flat, John had checked on Mrs Hudson and sent Beth on with a kiss and a smile. As he was making sure Mrs Hudson had all she needed for the coming of a horridly humid night, he heard a muffled gasp and had frozen, shared a look with Mrs Hudson and all but bolted up the stairs.

Beth was standing just inside the flat from the landing and John frowned, touching her back to ask what was wrong before he noticed her covered face and peered passed her at the very naked body of Sherlock.

Sherlock had his back to them, the line of his spine and the curve of his backside outlined by the sun streaming in through the windows. The muscles in his back rippled and flexed as he wafted a white bed sheet out in front of him in what looked to be vague frustration. John stared in shock or gawked really, and then scowled, turned Beth around into the kitchen, shut the connecting doors, and stormed over to stand at Sherlock’s heels.

For a moment or two, he did nothing, merely waited for Sherlock to notice him, but when that didn’t happen, John frowned and reached out to touch, stopping short from Sherlock’s defined bicep as his eyes shifted to the faint scatterings of freckles over Sherlock’s shoulders and then up to the white dangling cords of earphones. He rolled his eyes with a hard huff of breath that washed over Sherlock’s bare skin, making it twitch.

Sherlock tensed and then ever so slowly glanced over his shoulder at John, his eyes a liquid silver and molten blue in the light. He relaxed slightly at seeing it to be John and went to turn around on the spot until John grabbed him to stop him.

“Beth is here,” John told him following Sherlock’s gaze and then yanking his hands back from where they had been clutching Sherlock’s back. “Put some bloody clothes on!”

“I’m hot,” Sherlock replied flippantly, obviously reading John’s lips instead of taking out his earphones like a normal person. He half turned again and shot a look over John’s head.

When John looked he caught sight of Beth ducking back and sighed, pursing his lips in annoyance, “Put some clothes on, Sherlock.” 

“I’m hot,” Sherlock repeated, firing John a smug smile as he wafted the sheet again. 

“Put the sheet on then,” John said, exasperated, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. 

“Mm—no,” Sherlock hummed, adjusting the sheet and throwing it elegantly over the settee. Sherlock then looked through his fringe at the kitchen once more with a quirking smile that made John’s head jerk back around to find Beth peeking in at them.

John clenched his jaw and ground his teeth, plastering a smile on his face, “The glasses are in the second cupboard on your left, Beth. Ice cubes in the freezer. Why don’t you get yourself a cold drink, yeah?”

Looking back he found Sherlock sitting on the sheet draped settee, fingers tapping at the phone in his hands, music changing in volume with a swipe of his thumb. Sherlock glanced up at John as he stepped close and leaned back, pulling the phone out of reach of John’s suddenly gasping hand, then again with a grin, arching off the settee cushion and stretching his arms out. 

John grunted and kneeled between Sherlock’s bare legs and grabbed for his arm, falling slightly against Sherlock’s face in the process. Sherlock scoffed and arched tauter, using the arc of his chest to shove John away and wrestle his arm free of John’s steely grasp, his other hand pulling on the thin t-shirt John had decided to wear for the day. The fabric creaked with strain and warning, and with a vicious and mischievous twist of Sherlock’s fingers it tore with a loud, echoing rip that made John pause. He dipped his head and glared at Sherlock, who lifted his eyebrows and ripped the material more with flick of his wrist. 

The clattering and snapping of ice made them both freeze and John didn’t have to look to know Beth was looking again. John used the brief distraction to his advantage however and gripped the white cord instead, ripping the buds from Sherlock’s ears with a faint pop and a grimace from Sherlock. John moved back with them and yanked hard, disconnecting them completely from the phone in Sherlock’s hand.

“John!” Sherlock exclaimed angrily, turning the music off as soon as it blared from the small speakers of the phone. “Give them back to me.”

“Put some clothes on,” John countered, twirling the earphones and stepping back reflectively when Sherlock lunged for him as he dropped back into a seated position on the settee.

“I’m hot!” Sherlock all but bellowed. “I’m hot and it’s my flat, I can sit naked in my own flat if I want to!”

“It’s my flat too and no you can’t!” John shouted back, sidestepping another long armed swipe. “Put some clothes on!”

Sherlock got fluidly to his feet in the next instance and stepped close to try and take by the earphones up close, but John juggled them skilfully, dodging Sherlock’s long, deft fingers.

Sherlock growled and threw an arm out at the kitchen, “It’s not like she hasn’t seen a naked man before, John! You must have bedded her already, surely?” 

“Put some clothes on,” John repeated.

Sherlock’s right eye jerked and he pouted, then he dived for John’s hands suddenly and John shoved the entire thing down his trousers. Sherlock paused, looked up at John and then smiled, all teeth.

“Don’t think I won’t go in there after them, John,” Sherlock rumbled with a challenging glare.

John widened his stance, “Try it. See how far you get.”

“John? John, it’s okay. If he wants to be naked then just let him be naked. I’m okay with it, it’s fine,” Beth murmured softly from nearby.

“No. No, it’s not fine, Beth. He can’t go around doing whatever he pleases whenever he pleases. He’s got to learn to not always have his way,” John replied without looking at her. “This isn’t just about you, or about this, it’s about everything he does that he thinks he can get away with.”

Sherlock looked down his nose at John as he straightened to his full height and waited a full minute and a half before he pounced, shoving both hands down towards John’s trousers. John caught both wrists instantly, looked up at Sherlock’s widening eyes, reaffirmed his grip, and pushed Sherlock back to the settee strongly, twisting both of his arms behind his back halfway there, turning him around and heaving Sherlock face first into the sheet covered settee cushions.

John straddled Sherlock’s hips, keeping his body away from Sherlock’s naked skin as much as he could, and tightened his grasp as Sherlock struggled and grunted. Tensing with effort, John shifted his handholds quickly and paused when the brush of his fingertips at Sherlock’s side made Sherlock jerk with a shout.

“Oh? Ticklish are we?” John teased with a cocky, wicked grin, ignoring the beading of sweat at his brow and dripping down his back.

“No!” Sherlock forced through clenched teeth. “I’m in pain, you idiot! My arms are twisted and you--” He spluttered to a stop when John used one hand to hold Sherlock’s wrists and trailed the fingers of his free hand down Sherlock’s flank.

Sherlock twitched, twisted, bucked, chocked, whined highly and then burst into barks of helpless laughter, squirming uncontrollably as John dragged his fingers up under his armpits briefly. Sherlock kicked out, throwing his heels backwards to connect with John’s shoulders and back to try and force him off with uncoordinated jabs.

Beth stepped up beside them and John looked up to see her smirking widely, the dimples in her cheeks deepening as she wiggled her fingers and descended on Sherlock’s body relentlessly. John laughed and continued to hold Sherlock down as both him and Beth stroked, rubbed, scratched and tickled the bared skin of Sherlock’s sides, arms and on one brief occasion, his feet.

“This’ll teach you to sit around the flat naked,” John giggled breathlessly, straining to keep Sherlock down as Sherlock’s voice cracked with another bout of laughter, his eyes screwed shut, tears streaming down his cheeks and sweat coating his hairline.

John stopped after a few moments, signalling for Beth to also stop, and reached into his trousers to take out the captured earphones and lob them across the room. In the stillness that followed Sherlock panted deeply, hoarse laughter spilling free every second or two as he twitched and relaxed his tensed up muscles. John glanced back to see his legs flop limply down with a tremble and shared a grin Beth.

“So,” John exhaled. “Have you learned your lesson? Hm? Sherlock?”

Sherlock opened his eyes slowly and swallowed; licking his lips with a garbled muttering of words that John had to bend down to hear, but not to understand. Sherlock looked dazed and John eased up slightly on his caught wrists, checking his pulse and forehead with the free hand.

“Could you get me some ice please, Beth. Thanks,” John smiled as he turned to see Beth was already holding out a few shrinking cubes. John smeared one over Sherlock’s head and then dropped another on the small of his back as Beth rubbed one across Sherlock’s shuddering shoulders.

Sherlock convulsed and groaned, “Let me up.”

“Only if you promise to put on some clothes,” John replied, applying another ice cube to the half of Sherlock’s face not pressed into the sheet and settee. 

“No! I’m hot and this is my flat! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be here!” Sherlock hissed, voice rough as he struggled momentarily, stilling when John pushed an ice cube into his mouth. 

“The only reason you can afford to live here is because of me,” John told him calmly. “This is my flat too and you can’t just do whatever you like!”

“Neither can you, then! It goes both ways!”

John nodded, “Yes, this is true.”

Sherlock growled and bucked, “Then get off me!”

“I will…as soon as you promise to put on some clothes,” John said, poking Sherlock in the side as a warning and smirking at the shuddering breath in reaction. “And I mean a proper promise, Sherlock. If you lie, I’ll have you right back here. I can do it, you know I can.”

Sherlock swallowed and sulked, “This is childish!”

John shifted with a sigh and looked down at Sherlock with a stern look, “Just say the word, Sherlock, and I’ll let you go. One promise. And maybe next time you’ll think twice before doing anything.”

Rubbing his face against the sheet beneath him moodily, Sherlock squirmed and writhed slowly, testing John’s strength on his wrists a few times. John regarded him silently, taking a few ice cubes from Beth’s fingers, and shifted his weight as he waited.

“Any moment now, Sherlock.”

When nothing was forthcoming, John shrugged, looked at Beth and descended on Sherlock’s sides with her. Sherlock let loose an unmanly squeal, one John had ever heard from him before, arched with a hitched breath, and then laughed outright with a red face and jerking legs.

As they continued to tickle him, both John and Beth began laughing alongside, beaming at each other and even combining fingers for greater affect. John wondered distantly what Mrs Hudson thought was going on and only laughed harder, trailing his fingertips over Sherlock’s heaving ribs, watching the how they quivered and expanded only to contract in the next moment. 

John wriggled his fingers around Sherlock’s waist to attack his stomach and jolted aside when Sherlock all but leapt into the air, howling and gasping, flinging his head back. John huffed breathlessly at the sight and pushed his fingers up Sherlock’s torso, catching a nipple accidentally on the way up. A full body tremor ran through Sherlock and he inhaled sharply.

“Wait…no…don’t…” Sherlock panted between bursts of titters and crying laughter. “St-stop!”

“You promise to put on some clothes?” John asked, getting his fingers up under Sherlock’s neck and tickling him there and almost getting his digits caught with by a sharp chin. “Hm?”

Caught up in the fun of tickling Sherlock, John didn’t notice that Sherlock was thrusting and grinding into the sofa until his hand dipped back to his stomach and Sherlock outright groaned. The sound was swallowed quickly by sniggers as Beth ran her soft fingers down his ribs, but John had heard it. It rang in his head and he blinked.

“Wait…stop…stop I’m gonna…” Sherlock slurred, chuckling loudly when Beth, ignoring his jumbled words, stroking her fingers over his hips.

John’s fingers flexed in a spasm where they rested just below Sherlock’s navel and Sherlock moaned loudly, into the settee. He rutted, squirmed and then arched tautly with a wet gasp just as John dragged his hand free and stopped Beth with both hands, letting Sherlock’s wrists free.

Twitching violently, Sherlock took a series of chocked breaths and moved with frenzy beneath John, his hips jumping in an erratic thrusting motion as he suddenly gripped the edge and the armrest of the settee in his free shaking hands. 

“Did…did he just…?” Beth whispered as John stared at the corded muscle of Sherlock’s back and backside as he bucked a few more times and then went completely limp with a wavering sigh. “Perhaps I should go? …John? John! John, I should go.”

“What? Yeah. Er, yeah, yes, sorry, Beth,” John replied, looking at her and quickly getting up off Sherlock as rapidly as he could, his face flushed and wet with sweat. “Sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Beth laughed and kissed him on the cheek before she walked to the door. “Bye Sherlock…”

Sherlock, obviously, didn’t respond, and John looked down at him awkwardly. He hadn’t moved from his slumped position, but his face was red and there was a blush dusting the back of his neck and shoulders.

“I’ll…just let you…” John said, uncomfortable and mortified as he dashed away and up to his room. “Sorry…”


End file.
